In my family, you go to elementary school, then you go to middle school, then you go to high school and then you go to college. There aren’t lofty decrees about it or anything, but that’s kind of how everyone assumes it will go. So far, not one of us has done this properly. I took nine years to finish my bachelor’s degree before jumping right into a Ph.D program, my brother tried a business major at a state school before dumping it for a sound engineering program (which was the exact right thing for him to do), and my sister has put college on hold to make what seems to be about eleventy billion dollars bartending while she figures out what, exactly, she would want a degree in, which I also think is super smart because college is a horrible drudgery when you’re not connecting with your program (see: nine years to finish bachelor’s degree). This whole “you will be going to college” business seems to be getting more and more common, and its rise is accompanied by sneering derision towards those who haven’t gone to college. This is, without mincing words, a dick move, and the attitude cheapens both the college and the no-college paths. College is meant to be something you do in pursuit of academic knowledge, not for business or the vague majors that colleges are selling these days. With everyone high on college as the source of all knowledge, academic or otherwise, we denigrate the careers and knowledge of those in non-academic disciplines who have the sense not to waste their time and money on degrees they don’t need or want.
What I like about Richard Russo is his ability to appreciate everyone for their quirky fucked-upped-ness, academic or no. The tension between the two worlds is ever-present in Nobody’s Fool, as the main character, Sully, works to deal with the demented sensibilities of the more “educated” powers that be around him. He’s a laid-back man who has made his life on his strength and on being able to help people, and in the latter half of his life, he’s searching for direction while being weighted down by his past. These shackles take the form of the decaying house he inherited from his father years ago and the reappearance of his son, a failing academic being unceremoniously booted from academe after failing to get tenure. Nobody’s Fool is a celebration of the everyman and the rich wisdom available to him.
Much like Empire Falls, another favorite Russo book of mine, Nobody’s Fool features a wonderful array of small town characters who bear up and wear down Sully’s spirits. His sometimes-boss is an overbearing jerk who continually belittles him, he has a faltering flirtation with several of the local ladies, and his landlady is an older woman who talks to her dead husband. I could outline the plot for you, but as with so much of Russo’s writing, the specifics of the plot – though hysterical and sweet – are less important than the one essential truth at its core: that life grants wishes and dashes hopes whimsically, no matter what you try to do to prevent it, and the only defense against this trauma is to love the people in your life who are worth it.
Showing posts with label Cannonball Read. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cannonball Read. Show all posts
Monday, July 18, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Books Yay!: Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley
After I finished and loved Dracula, I decided to give some more classic horror a whirl, and downloaded Frankenstein. (Next up: something about mummies. Just kidding. Maybe.) It did not have a cover of note but I do want to mention that this one, from the Penguin Classics line, is both gorgeous and fitting. Cool.
Frankenstein is written in a similar style to Stoker's book, as a sort of conversational journal referred to as "epistolary form." The story is a lot more thoughtful and philosophical than what you tend to get in modernizations of the tale - the few villagers-with-pitchforks scenes are almost throwaways, and pale before the larger project of asking what makes a human. I was really impressed with the beautiful treatment of some really complicated questions in this book.
The Frankenstein monster is no lurching green guy here, but a man simply constructed from parts by a man who realized the tragedy of this half-human's existence. This is relayed by Frankenstein to Captain Walton, who has found him half dead, chasing the monster over an icy ocean. Frankenstein explains that he pursued knowledge with such abandon that he was driven to create this monster, which he immediately realized was an affront to nature. The creature, however, is driven by a desire to be human and to pursue wisdom in his own right. After Frankenstein abandons him, the monster travels the countryside, learning to read and speak in the process. Unfortunately, people cannot get beyond his horrible appearance, and he is eventually shot at after rescuing a small girl from drowning by a man who sees the two of them; after this incident, he swears vengeance on mankind. Once he has figured out the problems of his creation, he returns to kill several of Frankenstein's family members out of vengeance. He demands that Frankenstein build him a companion, so that he can live out his life in social exile in companionship. Frankenstein begins the project, but ultimately destroys it, unable to face having brought TWO such beings into the world. The monster vows revenge, and kills Frankenstein's fiancee right before their wedding, touching off a pursuit which both vow can only end with one or the other dead. It is in the middle of this pursuit that Walton finds Frankenstein.
There is yet more to the story, but I think it would be best for you to read it yourself. The whole book is a consideration of what it means to be human: is it the human body? Language? Speech? Social interaction? Through Frankenstein's tale, we are able to consider each, on our own and through the reactions of the characters in the book. It's really an exceptional story, and the writing is beautiful. I highly recommend this one, to be read when you have plenty of time to consider it. Mary Shelley is an interesting story in and of herself, too - she published this in 1816, when suffice to say, not too many women were publishing. She came up with the idea during a vacation with Lord freaking Byron and her husband, when they were stuck indoors by rainy weather brought on by volcanic eruptions. Yes really. They spent the time discussing things including galvanism or animation, and reading German ghost stories. I don't know about you, but that seems like a guarantee that the product of such a vacation will be awesome!
Frankenstein is written in a similar style to Stoker's book, as a sort of conversational journal referred to as "epistolary form." The story is a lot more thoughtful and philosophical than what you tend to get in modernizations of the tale - the few villagers-with-pitchforks scenes are almost throwaways, and pale before the larger project of asking what makes a human. I was really impressed with the beautiful treatment of some really complicated questions in this book.
The Frankenstein monster is no lurching green guy here, but a man simply constructed from parts by a man who realized the tragedy of this half-human's existence. This is relayed by Frankenstein to Captain Walton, who has found him half dead, chasing the monster over an icy ocean. Frankenstein explains that he pursued knowledge with such abandon that he was driven to create this monster, which he immediately realized was an affront to nature. The creature, however, is driven by a desire to be human and to pursue wisdom in his own right. After Frankenstein abandons him, the monster travels the countryside, learning to read and speak in the process. Unfortunately, people cannot get beyond his horrible appearance, and he is eventually shot at after rescuing a small girl from drowning by a man who sees the two of them; after this incident, he swears vengeance on mankind. Once he has figured out the problems of his creation, he returns to kill several of Frankenstein's family members out of vengeance. He demands that Frankenstein build him a companion, so that he can live out his life in social exile in companionship. Frankenstein begins the project, but ultimately destroys it, unable to face having brought TWO such beings into the world. The monster vows revenge, and kills Frankenstein's fiancee right before their wedding, touching off a pursuit which both vow can only end with one or the other dead. It is in the middle of this pursuit that Walton finds Frankenstein.
There is yet more to the story, but I think it would be best for you to read it yourself. The whole book is a consideration of what it means to be human: is it the human body? Language? Speech? Social interaction? Through Frankenstein's tale, we are able to consider each, on our own and through the reactions of the characters in the book. It's really an exceptional story, and the writing is beautiful. I highly recommend this one, to be read when you have plenty of time to consider it. Mary Shelley is an interesting story in and of herself, too - she published this in 1816, when suffice to say, not too many women were publishing. She came up with the idea during a vacation with Lord freaking Byron and her husband, when they were stuck indoors by rainy weather brought on by volcanic eruptions. Yes really. They spent the time discussing things including galvanism or animation, and reading German ghost stories. I don't know about you, but that seems like a guarantee that the product of such a vacation will be awesome!
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Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Books Yay!: The Weird Sisters, by Eleanor Brown
So okay here's the concept: the three Andreas sisters - named after characters from random Shakespeare plays despite there being numerous Shakespearean sister triplets that could have been used for greater effect - exist in the sense of the weird sisters from Macbeth, speaking in the first person plural and knowing each other intricately except for when it's convenient to the plot for them to not understand each other. They are gathered at home to deal with their mother's cancer, but they of course all carry their own drama and in Shakespearean fashion there are all kinds of relationship movements and familial woes and mysterious debts and pregnancies. Things happen and things get resolved.
I would like to be nice about this book, particularly since the concept is a neat one and it apparently was an Amazon.com Best Book of the Month for January of 2011. Unfortunately, this distinction only serves to make me nervous about the mental health of my fellow Internet denziens, because this book is just not...best anything.
I thought a little bit about that last paragraph, went back and wrote the first one, and then came back here and I wonder if I'm being a little harsh. I'm sure there are some things that The Weird Sisters is in fact the best at. Let me see if I can come up with a few.
Best Random Smattering of Shakespearean Naming Conventions
The three sisters are named after Rosalind (As You Like It), Bianca (The Taming of the Shrew) and Cordelia (King Lear). Brown references Rosalind's in-play disguise as a male by putting her in what Brown appears to consider a male profession - college teaching - and putting her in the masculine role in her marriage according to tired gender roles. Bianca is a temptress character who always seems to get her way with men. Cordelia is distant and has trouble taking her father's advice. But of course Brown wants to get tricky with this, so Rosalind winds up taking a more feminine role and moving to Oxford to join her husband, Bianca sees her powers of seduction fail and must find a way to cope without them, and Cordelia winds up learning the true meaning of family. Why Brown picked these three characters and pulled in three plays when she was already overtaxing herself with the weird sisters conceit is beyond me. Oh! And the actual weird sisters are from Macbeth, so there's literally no connection anywhere.
Best Frequency of Tense Shifts
Thanks to the weird sisters first person plural concept, Brown is forced to engage in some truly horrendous tense shifts. Though the period of time that the story covers is not large - several months, plus some flashbacks - there are some truly awe-inspiring tense shifts that make the whole enterprise a convoluted mess. It makes it difficult to track the progress of the story and quite frankly the idea sounds a lot more interesting theoretically than it IS in practice.
Best Heap of Bullshit About a Family's Interaction
The girls' father is a renowned professor at the local university - though the college is pooh-poohed as being somewhat podunk and not that prestigious, so it's hard to say what the hell a professor of his apparent world-class status is doing at a piece of shit college, but whatever - and apparently we are supposed to believe that he speaks almost entirely in quotes from Shakespeare. I have a healthy respect for Shakespeare's incredible linguistic talents and the breadth of his catalog, but I'm sorry, you do not transact your life in Shakespearean verse in the 2000s, and you certainly don't do it without your family murdering you and hiding your body in the woods. Oh, and of course we're also supposed to believe that the professor's wife and three daughters have all memorized Shakespeare's complete works as well so that they can communicate and toss off vague witticisms.
Apparently my "bests" aren't really that besty. I found this book incredibly pretentious and irritating, all in the service of a plot that was cribbed from the latest and greatest Lifetime movies. It's a shame, because I think in the right hands, a book written in the voice of the weird sisters would be interesting. Unfortunately, Eleanor Brown decided to take up the project. I'm not actually saying she's a bad writer - there's good work hiding under the crap in this book - but this simply exceeded her grasp of Shakespeare and her ability to execute.
I would like to be nice about this book, particularly since the concept is a neat one and it apparently was an Amazon.com Best Book of the Month for January of 2011. Unfortunately, this distinction only serves to make me nervous about the mental health of my fellow Internet denziens, because this book is just not...best anything.
I thought a little bit about that last paragraph, went back and wrote the first one, and then came back here and I wonder if I'm being a little harsh. I'm sure there are some things that The Weird Sisters is in fact the best at. Let me see if I can come up with a few.
Best Random Smattering of Shakespearean Naming Conventions
The three sisters are named after Rosalind (As You Like It), Bianca (The Taming of the Shrew) and Cordelia (King Lear). Brown references Rosalind's in-play disguise as a male by putting her in what Brown appears to consider a male profession - college teaching - and putting her in the masculine role in her marriage according to tired gender roles. Bianca is a temptress character who always seems to get her way with men. Cordelia is distant and has trouble taking her father's advice. But of course Brown wants to get tricky with this, so Rosalind winds up taking a more feminine role and moving to Oxford to join her husband, Bianca sees her powers of seduction fail and must find a way to cope without them, and Cordelia winds up learning the true meaning of family. Why Brown picked these three characters and pulled in three plays when she was already overtaxing herself with the weird sisters conceit is beyond me. Oh! And the actual weird sisters are from Macbeth, so there's literally no connection anywhere.
Best Frequency of Tense Shifts
Thanks to the weird sisters first person plural concept, Brown is forced to engage in some truly horrendous tense shifts. Though the period of time that the story covers is not large - several months, plus some flashbacks - there are some truly awe-inspiring tense shifts that make the whole enterprise a convoluted mess. It makes it difficult to track the progress of the story and quite frankly the idea sounds a lot more interesting theoretically than it IS in practice.
Best Heap of Bullshit About a Family's Interaction
The girls' father is a renowned professor at the local university - though the college is pooh-poohed as being somewhat podunk and not that prestigious, so it's hard to say what the hell a professor of his apparent world-class status is doing at a piece of shit college, but whatever - and apparently we are supposed to believe that he speaks almost entirely in quotes from Shakespeare. I have a healthy respect for Shakespeare's incredible linguistic talents and the breadth of his catalog, but I'm sorry, you do not transact your life in Shakespearean verse in the 2000s, and you certainly don't do it without your family murdering you and hiding your body in the woods. Oh, and of course we're also supposed to believe that the professor's wife and three daughters have all memorized Shakespeare's complete works as well so that they can communicate and toss off vague witticisms.
Apparently my "bests" aren't really that besty. I found this book incredibly pretentious and irritating, all in the service of a plot that was cribbed from the latest and greatest Lifetime movies. It's a shame, because I think in the right hands, a book written in the voice of the weird sisters would be interesting. Unfortunately, Eleanor Brown decided to take up the project. I'm not actually saying she's a bad writer - there's good work hiding under the crap in this book - but this simply exceeded her grasp of Shakespeare and her ability to execute.
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Friday, April 22, 2011
Books Yay!: The Ruins, by Scott Smith
I read this book after Rich Juzwiak of FourFour (and so many other locations) published a defense of the movie version of The Ruins. I hadn't really paid much attention to trailers for the movie and certainly didn't know it was a book adaptation. However, Rich's defense of the concept and his references to the book itself got me intrigued, so I downloaded the book and waded in. Rich loves the dregs of pop culture, so I was expecting a so-bad-it's-good experience, but I was pleasantly surprised to find a genuinely good book lurking between the covers.
The Ruins is a pretty simple story: a bunch of dumb kids go out into the jungle and run into insidious forces that ultimately lead to bad things. But there's more going on than just that somewhat typical trope. For one, not all of the vacationers know each other or even share a language. The danger they face isn't simple either. There's the general danger of being out of their element, but there are also menacing, mysterious villagers surrounding them and imprisoning them on the ruins, and then, of course...there are the vines. The vines turn out to be the biggest problem of all. As it turns out, the vines are sentient, evil plants (don't laugh), and the longer the kids stay on the ruins, they more then understand how dire their straits are.
It is a mark of Smith's ability that this premise doesn't wind up utterly ridiculous in practice. The book is full of tension and genuine horror, far more than a book about evil death plants should be. Part of this is because he plays on the other factors threatening the characters' survival to produce the overwhelming effect people in their situation would likely feel. There are problems with water and food supplies, since they cannot leave the ruins and the vines exude a stinging sap. They don't understand why the armed villagers have the ruins surrounded and won't let them leave, and they don't know if the person they followed to the ruins made it or if others are likely to follow. They have to deal with sunburn and with some massive injuries as a result of falls down an open shaft and other accidents. On top of all of this, Smith has produced a set of realistic characters, which is to say that there are some that are bossy (though knowledgable), some that are panicky and helpless, some that are straight up jerks. Having realistic characters in play makes everything much more appealing and much more tense.
Then there are the vines. They are truly creepy in all they do. They grow incredibly quickly and are drawn to blood, even snaking out to suck up pools of it. The characters eventually realize that the vine has eaten several people, including the ones they followed out to the ruins in the first place. They also are able to make noise, mimicking voices to turn the captives against each other and making other unnatural sounds to trick them. It's a great effect and of course you can read as much "Nature's Revenge!!!!" into it as you want to.
Overall, a surprisingly great read. It's not long but it packs in the tension and is a creative concept handled really well. I'd definitely recommend this one!
The Ruins is a pretty simple story: a bunch of dumb kids go out into the jungle and run into insidious forces that ultimately lead to bad things. But there's more going on than just that somewhat typical trope. For one, not all of the vacationers know each other or even share a language. The danger they face isn't simple either. There's the general danger of being out of their element, but there are also menacing, mysterious villagers surrounding them and imprisoning them on the ruins, and then, of course...there are the vines. The vines turn out to be the biggest problem of all. As it turns out, the vines are sentient, evil plants (don't laugh), and the longer the kids stay on the ruins, they more then understand how dire their straits are.
It is a mark of Smith's ability that this premise doesn't wind up utterly ridiculous in practice. The book is full of tension and genuine horror, far more than a book about evil death plants should be. Part of this is because he plays on the other factors threatening the characters' survival to produce the overwhelming effect people in their situation would likely feel. There are problems with water and food supplies, since they cannot leave the ruins and the vines exude a stinging sap. They don't understand why the armed villagers have the ruins surrounded and won't let them leave, and they don't know if the person they followed to the ruins made it or if others are likely to follow. They have to deal with sunburn and with some massive injuries as a result of falls down an open shaft and other accidents. On top of all of this, Smith has produced a set of realistic characters, which is to say that there are some that are bossy (though knowledgable), some that are panicky and helpless, some that are straight up jerks. Having realistic characters in play makes everything much more appealing and much more tense.
Then there are the vines. They are truly creepy in all they do. They grow incredibly quickly and are drawn to blood, even snaking out to suck up pools of it. The characters eventually realize that the vine has eaten several people, including the ones they followed out to the ruins in the first place. They also are able to make noise, mimicking voices to turn the captives against each other and making other unnatural sounds to trick them. It's a great effect and of course you can read as much "Nature's Revenge!!!!" into it as you want to.
Overall, a surprisingly great read. It's not long but it packs in the tension and is a creative concept handled really well. I'd definitely recommend this one!
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Monday, April 11, 2011
Books Yay!: The New Jim Crow, by Michelle Alexander
What I really want to do is cut and paste all of The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness
into a post and say "just read it," or somehow make it so everyone who clicks on the review gets a copy delivered to their home automatically. The book explains the way our prison system, justice system, law enforcement and legislation all combine to create a new - or, depending on your level of cynicism, preserve the existing - racial caste system in America. In the interest of full disclosure, I went into this book with a large degree of skepticism. After all, even highly visible black public figures from President Obama to Bill Cosby have commented on the need for the black community, and particularly black men, to step up and fix their behavior, stay out of jail, and tend to their families. Even if you assume that there is SOME environmental influence over these behaviors, surely if these public figures are making such statements, they must be at least MOSTLY true, right?
Ms. Alexander has convinced me that this is not the case, not even sorta-kinda. Early in the book, Alexander mentions that institutional racism often becomes clear much like one of those Magic Eye pictures, swimming into view suddenly from just the right angle. I know racism is still a major problem in our society, but the depth and breadth of our mass incarceration system as a tool and function of that racism was still a revelation to me. I feel some sense of shame for not having seen this; of course, the reason I have not before now is because a white woman like myself is not forced into living this reality. I have argued with several friends who feel that all people should "pull themselves up by their bootstraps" by pointing out that not everyone HAS bootstraps to pull, but I have always considered that argument in an original or passive sense, i.e. that people often BEGIN with no bootstraps to pull, or that they may lose them through no fault of their own. I had not considered that not only the bootstraps but the boot and sole would be forcibly taken by the justice system that I have always considered one of the best parts of our political construct.
Alexander's elegant prose cuts through many of the assumptions we make and ideas we are fed about black and brown people - primarily men - in prison and as criminals. She sees an evolution from slavery to segregation during Jim Crow to mass incarceration and its attendant disenfranchisement. She highlights the War on Drugs as the most influential feeder of this last section, with its mandatory minimums that keep offenders in jail even longer than those who have committed violent crimes. The problems do not end with the service of the prison sentence. The jailed are then turned back out into society with a felony conviction that prevents them from getting most jobs, professional licenses, public housing, food assistance, and from participating in political society in any meaningful way, since most lose their right to vote and serve on juries. There is no "doing your time," as we often say, suggesting that you just hang out in prison for a while and then society welcomes you back with both arms and a smile. Even when felons can technically regain their political rights, there are often fines and massive bureaucratic hurdles in their way, which would be daunting or impassable enough without the fear that this kind of persecutory system instills.
In other conversations, it has been suggested that if you aren't doing anything wrong, you have nothing to fear from law enforcement. It is interesting to note that this line usually came up when I was talking about the affront to the Fourth Amendment that is the newest TSA screening procedures (yes, I realize they have been ramped back, and no, I don't care, because the fact that it would occur to the government to create AND enact them is supremely problematic), which is only a concern for those far, far above the income brackets of the millions of incarcerated black and brown people that this book concerns. It is an affront to liberty when the TSA does it, and it is an affront to liberty when the DEA and police do it to black and brown men. Alexander launches a full on assault to show that black and brown men DO in fact have something to fear, even if they are innocent. She describes the techniques and practices that law enforcement follow to keep a steady flow of these men into the prisons, regardless of their guilt. She also shows us the shoddy legal representation afforded these people once they are in the system, where the accused are pushed into guilty pleas to avoid longer sentences and inadequate or flat-out wrong information abounds. It is hard to read without a sense of desperation...and Alexander is giving us the information that the prisoners do not receive. Just imagine how horrible it must be to be IN the system without it.
This book is exceptional for its clarity. I don't think that anyone could read this and not feel both outraged and moved to Do Something. This book is a call to action, and it is our responsibility to respond accordingly, recognizing that the problem of racism is far from over in this country. Both of these objectives are difficult. Addressing one's privilege is difficult, particularly because the phenomenon is frequently misunderstood. It is uncomfortable to think about the idea that you receive often-intangible benefits simply by virtue of some quality we were born with. We feel unable to do anything to remedy this privilege, and feel that those who are not privileged blame us for it. But generally, this is not the case. Rather, privilege is a lens - our corneas - through which we see the world, and though we cannot remove our privilege any more than we would remove our corneas, we can adjust our worldview to see the world more appropriately, just as one would get a pair of glasses. This is the way we can begin to move forward, to create a fairer world.
Ms. Alexander has convinced me that this is not the case, not even sorta-kinda. Early in the book, Alexander mentions that institutional racism often becomes clear much like one of those Magic Eye pictures, swimming into view suddenly from just the right angle. I know racism is still a major problem in our society, but the depth and breadth of our mass incarceration system as a tool and function of that racism was still a revelation to me. I feel some sense of shame for not having seen this; of course, the reason I have not before now is because a white woman like myself is not forced into living this reality. I have argued with several friends who feel that all people should "pull themselves up by their bootstraps" by pointing out that not everyone HAS bootstraps to pull, but I have always considered that argument in an original or passive sense, i.e. that people often BEGIN with no bootstraps to pull, or that they may lose them through no fault of their own. I had not considered that not only the bootstraps but the boot and sole would be forcibly taken by the justice system that I have always considered one of the best parts of our political construct.
Alexander's elegant prose cuts through many of the assumptions we make and ideas we are fed about black and brown people - primarily men - in prison and as criminals. She sees an evolution from slavery to segregation during Jim Crow to mass incarceration and its attendant disenfranchisement. She highlights the War on Drugs as the most influential feeder of this last section, with its mandatory minimums that keep offenders in jail even longer than those who have committed violent crimes. The problems do not end with the service of the prison sentence. The jailed are then turned back out into society with a felony conviction that prevents them from getting most jobs, professional licenses, public housing, food assistance, and from participating in political society in any meaningful way, since most lose their right to vote and serve on juries. There is no "doing your time," as we often say, suggesting that you just hang out in prison for a while and then society welcomes you back with both arms and a smile. Even when felons can technically regain their political rights, there are often fines and massive bureaucratic hurdles in their way, which would be daunting or impassable enough without the fear that this kind of persecutory system instills.
In other conversations, it has been suggested that if you aren't doing anything wrong, you have nothing to fear from law enforcement. It is interesting to note that this line usually came up when I was talking about the affront to the Fourth Amendment that is the newest TSA screening procedures (yes, I realize they have been ramped back, and no, I don't care, because the fact that it would occur to the government to create AND enact them is supremely problematic), which is only a concern for those far, far above the income brackets of the millions of incarcerated black and brown people that this book concerns. It is an affront to liberty when the TSA does it, and it is an affront to liberty when the DEA and police do it to black and brown men. Alexander launches a full on assault to show that black and brown men DO in fact have something to fear, even if they are innocent. She describes the techniques and practices that law enforcement follow to keep a steady flow of these men into the prisons, regardless of their guilt. She also shows us the shoddy legal representation afforded these people once they are in the system, where the accused are pushed into guilty pleas to avoid longer sentences and inadequate or flat-out wrong information abounds. It is hard to read without a sense of desperation...and Alexander is giving us the information that the prisoners do not receive. Just imagine how horrible it must be to be IN the system without it.
This book is exceptional for its clarity. I don't think that anyone could read this and not feel both outraged and moved to Do Something. This book is a call to action, and it is our responsibility to respond accordingly, recognizing that the problem of racism is far from over in this country. Both of these objectives are difficult. Addressing one's privilege is difficult, particularly because the phenomenon is frequently misunderstood. It is uncomfortable to think about the idea that you receive often-intangible benefits simply by virtue of some quality we were born with. We feel unable to do anything to remedy this privilege, and feel that those who are not privileged blame us for it. But generally, this is not the case. Rather, privilege is a lens - our corneas - through which we see the world, and though we cannot remove our privilege any more than we would remove our corneas, we can adjust our worldview to see the world more appropriately, just as one would get a pair of glasses. This is the way we can begin to move forward, to create a fairer world.
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Saturday, March 12, 2011
Books Yay!: Wired for War, by P.W. Singer
NB: This review was originally drafted for a course I am taking at Boston University called "Ethics and Force" with Prof. Neta Crawford.
P.W. Singer has created a remarkable book about the future of wartime technology and technological warfare. In the process, he has also provided an overview of modern robotics and an accompanying cautionary tale for us all. As we rush towards an electronic future, we must take care to consider the ramifications of ceding control to robots. We must do our best to consider the many ways that increased reliance on robots may affect our lives. Singer’s book, with its heady blend of statistics, personal interviews, and technical research, does not leave the discussion of robots at utility, but tackles the ethical concerns that surround robot use and how it changes human behavior as well. Though his ethical discussion is somewhat limited to the rules that must govern robots in order to maintain an ethical standard that war theorists have hovered around for the better part of the modern era, this book provides a solid foundation from which we can explore these concerns ourselves. After all, centuries of war theory have unfolded without an authoritative answer to the questions of ethics in combat; indeed, to answer these questions may in some ways be the end of war all together. P.W. Singer may not have all the answers, but he has a lot of them, and Wired for War clearly shows the need for active consideration of those that remain.
Singer begins with an examination of technological development and its deployment in the war theatre. In many ways, robotics have taken over the “accidental benefits” role once dominated by NASA, where the demands of space travel and existence resulted in startlingly useful objects and technologies for earthbound life. Singer points out that defense contractor iRobot is also the creator of the Roomba and its helpful cousins. In this way, he shows us that robotics are edging into all of our lives and not just into war, drawing in the reader and demonstrating that the need to consider the ethics of robots is not limited to military leaders. There are clear benefits to allowing robots to do the work of soldiers – the book opens with a heartwrenching account of an IED explosion that kills a soldier…who turns out to be a robot – but there are also problems of adaptation, best practices, and malfunction that come along with the territory. Generally, though, the brilliant minds of robotics techs are creating machines that dramatically reduce the human casualties of war.
There are a variety of social factors that guide both the development and the application of robotics. Science fiction has made us as a society both better at imagining wild capabilities for robots and worse at taking their impact seriously. To a certain extent, this means we’re willing and able to imagine a friendly facsimile of the Jetson’s Rosie the Robot toodling around our home, but never consider the possibility that she could break, turn against us, or malfunction in a way that causes accidental harm. We also assume that some of the larger conventions of robots in science fiction provide the same safeguards in real life; Singer cites Asimov’s Three Laws, which limit robots’ capacity to harm humans, and immediately follows it up with a bevy of engineers explaining that not only do those laws not get programmed into robots, but that they would be nearly impossible to program. The military programs also guide robotics development through funding, tailoring much of robotics research to military products, and this is in part whence the title came. Singer’s suggestion is that we as humans are in fact “wired for war” and because of this, our forays into robotics (and other technologies) will necessarily turn to military use. Singer provides a concise yet awfully chilling account of how easy it is to adjust one’s description of their non-military research to military terms when government funding is the only way to keep your program funded. He compares those who reject funding from DARPA and other government agencies to those who stood against the atomic bomb. These social forces direct the progress and speed of robotics, and they do so without concerted effort to consider the ethical demands of using these new machines.
Perhaps the most worrying section of the book is when Singer looks at attitudes from military leaders towards robotics. There is a distinct tendency amongst military officials to look at upside and brush off the idea of malfunction, loss of control, or even the idea that robots may not provide a true substitute for a human soldier. Singer references Clausewitz’s “fog of war” and updates it with an example from the Iraq war to show that even with robotics, that fog persists. In his example, the US force was identified with “blue trackers,” so soldiers could see each other in the midst of a sandstorm at dusk, but the enemy – untracked for the obvious reasons – remained at best elusive and at worst invisible. It gets worse than simply not having robotics help as you hoped they would, too. During one of the largest infusions of robots into the Iraq War, the US military immediately and comprehensively ran out of...batteries. They had failed to account for the power requirements necessary to operating all of the robots. There have also been problems of malfunction, breakdown from environmental factors like sand in the war theatre, and extensive problems with control signals, which can be scrambled and interrupted by any number of factors. Moreover, Singer points out that with the enthusiastic embrace of many of these technologies has come a certain assumption that the entire war is being fought with the same weapons, leaving troops less than prepared for the low-tech menace of their opponents. These robots are being integrated with little thought for the worst case scenario. This is all, of course, before one gets to questions raised by scientists about the possibility of hostile Artificial Intelligence or a Singularity that would produce sentient machines which have very little concern for humans.
Once Singer has shown us the potential hazards posed by the rise of robotics, he works to address some of the ethical challenges that surround the machines. In many ways, he is leading from Asimov’s Three Laws, trying to establish a way we should govern our robots in a way that uses them best while protecting our intent and safety. This discussion brings into sharp relief something that has been assumed in our course reading: that judgment is an essential part of wartime ethics. Singer explains the possibility of programming the Geneva Convention and other war rules and standards into robots, but we can see even in his fairly short discussion that this would not solve the problems of ethics as applied to robot actors. Justice is about more than setting rules and following them precisely at all times; this is why we distinguish between the letter and the spirit of laws and often give primacy to the latter rather than the former. Rather than programming robots with legal texts, Singer suggests that the best way to avoid ethical violations with robots is to limit and strictly proscribe their application, putting the onus on the human operators rather than investing the robots with the responsibility of navigating the complex ethics of war.
Singer mentions in passing and in his conclusion that the development of robotics makes it “easier” to go to war. Wired for War would have been stronger had this been explored more completely – which is not to say that this book is in any way a lightweight – particularly since the title and premise are based on the idea that we, as humans, are wired for war. It may be that Singer thought that his examination of the ethics directly surrounding the deployment of robots covered more ground on this front than it actually does. That discussion is important and certainly connected, but it does not go as far in parsing out the development of “traditional war” into this new robotic war and how that changes the ethical constructs that have been built up around the old method of war.
Singer does point out that an essential part of war has been soldiers’ willingness to lay down their lives for whatever cause prompted their participation, and notes that robotics eliminate that sense of honor that permeates the battlefield. Without this, he argues, war ethics have the legs cut out from beneath them. Much of just war theory is either predicated or directed by this honor. When war theory is rooted in honor, it is easily parlayed into concerns for ethical behavior before and after war, and we can apply the inverse to the decay of necessary honor in war. Much as we saw with the example of the troops assuming that everyone would be fighting a technological battle, it becomes easy to simply “send out the robots” and forget the human costs of the war. Singer points out that war is about more than having the biggest stick, that it is about using all of your resources to engage, resolve and move past a conflict. If robotics turn our military policy into a matter of engagement alone, it is easy to see that wars, once started, may never end, but merely roll on into ever more comprehensive struggles. On the one hand, this would be an odd kind of peace, were everyone to attain a commensurate level of technology – robots off on a limited battlefield, waging sterile wars with little to no human casualties. Still, nations would know they were fighting, and would take sides, producing a "peace" in which people would still be at odds and engaged in a fight. It would maintain a basic level of hostility that would look nothing like the peace aimed for by the great just war theorists, and it has the potential to change almost everything we know about politics by returning us to a sort of modernized state of nature.
In sum, Singer’s book is a remarkably comprehensive look at the dramatic change promised by robotics development and its military application. Though there are some areas of ethical concern that could be been more deeply examined, the work still provides a sound foundation from which to develop a new ethical framework for a robotic military. The value of such a book is evident in Singer’s interviews with military leaders, politicians, and scientists who seem to have given the matter little thought in the face of the utility and “cool factor” of these technological advancements. As Singer also mentions some of the more comprehensive ethical questions that relate to humans as well as the robots themselves, one may hold out hope that he will include a more probing examination of these matters in future editions.
P.W. Singer has created a remarkable book about the future of wartime technology and technological warfare. In the process, he has also provided an overview of modern robotics and an accompanying cautionary tale for us all. As we rush towards an electronic future, we must take care to consider the ramifications of ceding control to robots. We must do our best to consider the many ways that increased reliance on robots may affect our lives. Singer’s book, with its heady blend of statistics, personal interviews, and technical research, does not leave the discussion of robots at utility, but tackles the ethical concerns that surround robot use and how it changes human behavior as well. Though his ethical discussion is somewhat limited to the rules that must govern robots in order to maintain an ethical standard that war theorists have hovered around for the better part of the modern era, this book provides a solid foundation from which we can explore these concerns ourselves. After all, centuries of war theory have unfolded without an authoritative answer to the questions of ethics in combat; indeed, to answer these questions may in some ways be the end of war all together. P.W. Singer may not have all the answers, but he has a lot of them, and Wired for War clearly shows the need for active consideration of those that remain.
Singer begins with an examination of technological development and its deployment in the war theatre. In many ways, robotics have taken over the “accidental benefits” role once dominated by NASA, where the demands of space travel and existence resulted in startlingly useful objects and technologies for earthbound life. Singer points out that defense contractor iRobot is also the creator of the Roomba and its helpful cousins. In this way, he shows us that robotics are edging into all of our lives and not just into war, drawing in the reader and demonstrating that the need to consider the ethics of robots is not limited to military leaders. There are clear benefits to allowing robots to do the work of soldiers – the book opens with a heartwrenching account of an IED explosion that kills a soldier…who turns out to be a robot – but there are also problems of adaptation, best practices, and malfunction that come along with the territory. Generally, though, the brilliant minds of robotics techs are creating machines that dramatically reduce the human casualties of war.
There are a variety of social factors that guide both the development and the application of robotics. Science fiction has made us as a society both better at imagining wild capabilities for robots and worse at taking their impact seriously. To a certain extent, this means we’re willing and able to imagine a friendly facsimile of the Jetson’s Rosie the Robot toodling around our home, but never consider the possibility that she could break, turn against us, or malfunction in a way that causes accidental harm. We also assume that some of the larger conventions of robots in science fiction provide the same safeguards in real life; Singer cites Asimov’s Three Laws, which limit robots’ capacity to harm humans, and immediately follows it up with a bevy of engineers explaining that not only do those laws not get programmed into robots, but that they would be nearly impossible to program. The military programs also guide robotics development through funding, tailoring much of robotics research to military products, and this is in part whence the title came. Singer’s suggestion is that we as humans are in fact “wired for war” and because of this, our forays into robotics (and other technologies) will necessarily turn to military use. Singer provides a concise yet awfully chilling account of how easy it is to adjust one’s description of their non-military research to military terms when government funding is the only way to keep your program funded. He compares those who reject funding from DARPA and other government agencies to those who stood against the atomic bomb. These social forces direct the progress and speed of robotics, and they do so without concerted effort to consider the ethical demands of using these new machines.
Perhaps the most worrying section of the book is when Singer looks at attitudes from military leaders towards robotics. There is a distinct tendency amongst military officials to look at upside and brush off the idea of malfunction, loss of control, or even the idea that robots may not provide a true substitute for a human soldier. Singer references Clausewitz’s “fog of war” and updates it with an example from the Iraq war to show that even with robotics, that fog persists. In his example, the US force was identified with “blue trackers,” so soldiers could see each other in the midst of a sandstorm at dusk, but the enemy – untracked for the obvious reasons – remained at best elusive and at worst invisible. It gets worse than simply not having robotics help as you hoped they would, too. During one of the largest infusions of robots into the Iraq War, the US military immediately and comprehensively ran out of...batteries. They had failed to account for the power requirements necessary to operating all of the robots. There have also been problems of malfunction, breakdown from environmental factors like sand in the war theatre, and extensive problems with control signals, which can be scrambled and interrupted by any number of factors. Moreover, Singer points out that with the enthusiastic embrace of many of these technologies has come a certain assumption that the entire war is being fought with the same weapons, leaving troops less than prepared for the low-tech menace of their opponents. These robots are being integrated with little thought for the worst case scenario. This is all, of course, before one gets to questions raised by scientists about the possibility of hostile Artificial Intelligence or a Singularity that would produce sentient machines which have very little concern for humans.
Once Singer has shown us the potential hazards posed by the rise of robotics, he works to address some of the ethical challenges that surround the machines. In many ways, he is leading from Asimov’s Three Laws, trying to establish a way we should govern our robots in a way that uses them best while protecting our intent and safety. This discussion brings into sharp relief something that has been assumed in our course reading: that judgment is an essential part of wartime ethics. Singer explains the possibility of programming the Geneva Convention and other war rules and standards into robots, but we can see even in his fairly short discussion that this would not solve the problems of ethics as applied to robot actors. Justice is about more than setting rules and following them precisely at all times; this is why we distinguish between the letter and the spirit of laws and often give primacy to the latter rather than the former. Rather than programming robots with legal texts, Singer suggests that the best way to avoid ethical violations with robots is to limit and strictly proscribe their application, putting the onus on the human operators rather than investing the robots with the responsibility of navigating the complex ethics of war.
Singer mentions in passing and in his conclusion that the development of robotics makes it “easier” to go to war. Wired for War would have been stronger had this been explored more completely – which is not to say that this book is in any way a lightweight – particularly since the title and premise are based on the idea that we, as humans, are wired for war. It may be that Singer thought that his examination of the ethics directly surrounding the deployment of robots covered more ground on this front than it actually does. That discussion is important and certainly connected, but it does not go as far in parsing out the development of “traditional war” into this new robotic war and how that changes the ethical constructs that have been built up around the old method of war.
Singer does point out that an essential part of war has been soldiers’ willingness to lay down their lives for whatever cause prompted their participation, and notes that robotics eliminate that sense of honor that permeates the battlefield. Without this, he argues, war ethics have the legs cut out from beneath them. Much of just war theory is either predicated or directed by this honor. When war theory is rooted in honor, it is easily parlayed into concerns for ethical behavior before and after war, and we can apply the inverse to the decay of necessary honor in war. Much as we saw with the example of the troops assuming that everyone would be fighting a technological battle, it becomes easy to simply “send out the robots” and forget the human costs of the war. Singer points out that war is about more than having the biggest stick, that it is about using all of your resources to engage, resolve and move past a conflict. If robotics turn our military policy into a matter of engagement alone, it is easy to see that wars, once started, may never end, but merely roll on into ever more comprehensive struggles. On the one hand, this would be an odd kind of peace, were everyone to attain a commensurate level of technology – robots off on a limited battlefield, waging sterile wars with little to no human casualties. Still, nations would know they were fighting, and would take sides, producing a "peace" in which people would still be at odds and engaged in a fight. It would maintain a basic level of hostility that would look nothing like the peace aimed for by the great just war theorists, and it has the potential to change almost everything we know about politics by returning us to a sort of modernized state of nature.
In sum, Singer’s book is a remarkably comprehensive look at the dramatic change promised by robotics development and its military application. Though there are some areas of ethical concern that could be been more deeply examined, the work still provides a sound foundation from which to develop a new ethical framework for a robotic military. The value of such a book is evident in Singer’s interviews with military leaders, politicians, and scientists who seem to have given the matter little thought in the face of the utility and “cool factor” of these technological advancements. As Singer also mentions some of the more comprehensive ethical questions that relate to humans as well as the robots themselves, one may hold out hope that he will include a more probing examination of these matters in future editions.
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Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Books Yay!: Stardust, by Neil Gaiman
Many of the fairy tales with which people in my age bracket grew up have not aged well. We grew up right in the Disney belt, where most of us got the "child friendly" adaptations of the more gory, scary cautionary tales-cum-child-control-method stories whence those fluffier versions came. I think Disney fairy tales assume that kids can't process more than a simple good/bad binary, where the Grimm fairy tales and their ilk took children more seriously and asked them to make more nuanced decisions. This is not to say that Disney retellings are devoid of realism or are somehow bad, but they lack a certain challenge that other tales do not. This may be a result of movies being a visual medium; there is more call to concern oneself with the visual aspects of a story in film, where a simple "beautiful princess" or "ugly witch" is ample in a spoken or written story, leaving the teller more room to concern themselves with plot.
Neil Gaiman's writing is the clear descendant of the Grimm fairy tale tradition, taking its readers seriously and creating magic that is logical and beautiful in its own unique way. This is true of all of his writing, but particularly so in his books for children and young adults. I have yet to read a Gaiman book that I did not love with my entire heart, and I hope that will always be true. Stardust is no exception. It is a beautiful tale that shows us that love is both ridiculous and gorgeous, and demonstrates that the great divide between good and evil is filled with tricksters, people who are nice enough, people with their own agendas, overly entitled, crafty, and many other delicately shaded personalities.
The weft of Stardust and the way it is created are particularly lovely, so I won't give you all the details of the plot - it's a sweet, short little book, so there's really no reason to skip this one - but the main plot line follows Tristan Thorn's hunt for a fallen star. He has set out for it after promising the loveliest girl in the town of Wall that he will catch it for her. Wall is surrounded by (surprise!) a wall that divides the town and the outside world of Fairie, and the two worlds rarely intermingle. When Tristan crosses over into Fairie, thing get complicated, and continue to do so for the rest of the book.
Though Stardust was specifically written in a pre-Tolkien mode, I cannot help but consider it to be Gaiman's Simarillion, where Tolkien showed us the structure and genesis of Middle-Earth. Gaiman's Sandman series deals explicitly with Fairie, but many of his other writings share the same kind of magical and social structures, even if the characters are not clearly passing in and out of Fairie. The plot of Stardust is complete and well-written, but for me, the plot paled in comparison with the richness of its setting. Not many authors can pull that off and wind up with a great book, but Gaiman has certainly done so here.
Crossposted at The Outpost
Neil Gaiman's writing is the clear descendant of the Grimm fairy tale tradition, taking its readers seriously and creating magic that is logical and beautiful in its own unique way. This is true of all of his writing, but particularly so in his books for children and young adults. I have yet to read a Gaiman book that I did not love with my entire heart, and I hope that will always be true. Stardust is no exception. It is a beautiful tale that shows us that love is both ridiculous and gorgeous, and demonstrates that the great divide between good and evil is filled with tricksters, people who are nice enough, people with their own agendas, overly entitled, crafty, and many other delicately shaded personalities.
The weft of Stardust and the way it is created are particularly lovely, so I won't give you all the details of the plot - it's a sweet, short little book, so there's really no reason to skip this one - but the main plot line follows Tristan Thorn's hunt for a fallen star. He has set out for it after promising the loveliest girl in the town of Wall that he will catch it for her. Wall is surrounded by (surprise!) a wall that divides the town and the outside world of Fairie, and the two worlds rarely intermingle. When Tristan crosses over into Fairie, thing get complicated, and continue to do so for the rest of the book.
Though Stardust was specifically written in a pre-Tolkien mode, I cannot help but consider it to be Gaiman's Simarillion, where Tolkien showed us the structure and genesis of Middle-Earth. Gaiman's Sandman series deals explicitly with Fairie, but many of his other writings share the same kind of magical and social structures, even if the characters are not clearly passing in and out of Fairie. The plot of Stardust is complete and well-written, but for me, the plot paled in comparison with the richness of its setting. Not many authors can pull that off and wind up with a great book, but Gaiman has certainly done so here.
Crossposted at The Outpost
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Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Books Yay!: The Imperfectionists, by Tom Rachman

The Imperfectionists is a series of peepholes into the lives of the employees of a once-great newspaper. The stories are just connected enough for cohesiveness, and separate enough to avoid repetition. There are stories of editors, reporters, owners, readers and all the people that fall in and out of their respective lives. The connections between characters allow the story of the newspaper itself to wend its way through the book as well, showing us what the paper is and could have been for each person. The stories span a period of several decades and follow the long, slow death of the newspaper. The death throes of newspapers are hardly unfamiliar to most readers of today - the changes in format, content, delivery, etc. that precede an admission that the fight is useless - but are usually considered in a business sense. The Imperfectionists infuses this slow financial crumpling with an unusual pathos, and it is in places quite heartbreaking.
I would be selling the book short if I suggested that all roads led to the newspaper. The relationships in the book are complex and well-developed, which of course adds to the tragedy of the newspaper's - their livelihoods' - trouble. Most authors have a couple key relationship "types" that they return to time and time again, but Rachman refuses to limit himself to anything so simple. While his relationships tend towards the doomed variety, they all have their own unique fingerprint, and are singularly revealing of the primary individual, the other person in the relationship, and the connection itself. This is no small feat; writing compelling relationships is challenging because so much of love, in whatever form, is resonant primarily to those involved and hopelessly dorky to everyone else. I rarely commend books for their love and relationship plots, but in this case I do so enthusiastically.
Perhaps the most trying aspect of the book is seeing the newspaper fail to maintain the vision of its creators. The enterprise is so clearly loved and is vested with such high hopes and the belief that good news can change the world that seeing it slide into irrelevance is almost physically painful. It is, however, the way of many, many businesses, and I appreciate this book for it's insistence that we see business as something forged by humans and steeped in their emotions. For a reasonably short book, The Imperfectionists shows the reader humanity in a wide variety of sometimes startling places, and despite it's sad bent, it is well worth anyone's time.
Crossposted at The Outpost
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Monday, February 28, 2011
Books Yay!: Bowling Alone, by Robert Putnam
This book was all over the pop-culture-o-sphere when it came out, and I never got around to reading it until it was assigned for my American Politics seminar. I'm glad that the professor assigned it, because it adds statistical weight to something I've felt but been able to really qualify other than "dude that totally happens."
The idea in Bowling Alone is that a serious degradation of our social structure is taking place as we drift away from the community we once knew, which put people in continual, direct contact with one another. It's really support for Tocqueville's praise for American civic engagement, complete with charts and graphs. As a big fan of Tocqueville's, I was reading this all "YEAH! Everyone needs to sign up for a bowling league! Go Girl Scouts!" This is a smart, well argued analysis of the effects of civic engagement - and its decay - on society. It made me want to go out and join as many civic organizations as I could.
I think that this book highlights our unwillingness to put up with even a low level of inconvenience in our social lives, as well as the costs and benefits of putting up with it. Anyone who has ever joined a social group understands the irritation that can come along with it. Every group in the history of the planet has had its blowhard, its foot-dragger, its socially-impaired, and every other kind of exasperating person or quality that is drawn to social interaction like a moth to a fire at a candle store. It can be draining, but the payoff is worth it. Unfortunately, people seem less and less willing to put up with even the most minimal social discomfort, and this reduces the opportunities we have to build local and extended social community.
I would be interested in seeing what Putnam has to say about Facebook and other social media sites. I don't think they are an automatic social boon, but they do represent a new avenue for social connection. That said, we all know how much can be lost when conversations happen over the internet, and that phenomenon carries into all aspects of communication that take place online. The internet also allows us to take our social circles worldwide, which can be at the expense of local contacts. I'm not sure where to place these modes of communication, and I'd really love to see Putnam's graph-fu laid down on them.
The idea in Bowling Alone is that a serious degradation of our social structure is taking place as we drift away from the community we once knew, which put people in continual, direct contact with one another. It's really support for Tocqueville's praise for American civic engagement, complete with charts and graphs. As a big fan of Tocqueville's, I was reading this all "YEAH! Everyone needs to sign up for a bowling league! Go Girl Scouts!" This is a smart, well argued analysis of the effects of civic engagement - and its decay - on society. It made me want to go out and join as many civic organizations as I could.
I think that this book highlights our unwillingness to put up with even a low level of inconvenience in our social lives, as well as the costs and benefits of putting up with it. Anyone who has ever joined a social group understands the irritation that can come along with it. Every group in the history of the planet has had its blowhard, its foot-dragger, its socially-impaired, and every other kind of exasperating person or quality that is drawn to social interaction like a moth to a fire at a candle store. It can be draining, but the payoff is worth it. Unfortunately, people seem less and less willing to put up with even the most minimal social discomfort, and this reduces the opportunities we have to build local and extended social community.
I would be interested in seeing what Putnam has to say about Facebook and other social media sites. I don't think they are an automatic social boon, but they do represent a new avenue for social connection. That said, we all know how much can be lost when conversations happen over the internet, and that phenomenon carries into all aspects of communication that take place online. The internet also allows us to take our social circles worldwide, which can be at the expense of local contacts. I'm not sure where to place these modes of communication, and I'd really love to see Putnam's graph-fu laid down on them.
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Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Books Yay!: The Apothecary's Daughter, by Julie Klassen
I ran across Comm Ave on a class break a while back to grab a Cubano latte* at Espresso Royale, and while I was there I had to run to the bathroom. The stall was decorated with various quotes, and one person had written "Those who rely on quotes cannot speak for themselves." I wanted to high five the stall, because they perfectly summed up my irritation with people who spout quotes all the time. When I was younger, I certainly used quotes and even kept a little notebook of them, but the better I learned to express myself on my own merits, the less I cared about having a bunch of quotes to refer to. Drawing inspiration from quotes is a different thing, and we should study the thinkers that came before us so we can build on the best of their thought, but if all you can do is spout quotes, you need to work on your own thought.
The same goes for books. The Apothecary's Daughter didn't have the same "feel-good" kinds of quotes you run in to commonly, but it was stuffed with quotes about apothecaries and early medicine. It's not a scientific book or a history of the apothecary trade, it's a semi-cute, fluffy story about a woman in a man's trade who is wooed by various men but must stand by her family in the face of the Evil Apothecary Board who are not down with her handling the family business. This makes the quotes annoying as hell. I think Klassen is trying to add an air of legitimacy to her description of the apothecary business, but the quotes are completely superfluous and add very little. One or two might have been used to good effect, but they litter the book and disrupt its flow.
I don't mean to excoriate this book or damn it for its use of quotes, which are useless but not the ultimate literary sin, but this quote thing seems more and more prevalent and I'm getting sick and tired of the technique. This was a reasonably diverting read and I enjoyed it. The story follows Lillian Hasswell, the titular daughter, and her progress through young life. She begins life at her father's side, helping with his apothecary shop and learning the trade, before being whisked off to London by wealthy relatives to be presented in society. While she keeps her common sense grounding and intellect, she cannot avoid entanglements with various dashing young men. When she must return to her home to help her ailing father, she cannot escape said entanglements, and must balance her family life, the business and her love life all at once. The book is full of interesting characters and lovely landscapes, and the presence of a doctor suitor allows Klassen to explore the tension between apothecaries and doctors that existed during the period.
This isn't a perfect book. The story is cute and it handles relationships with a subtlety that's often lacking in this kind of "Regency" writing, giving people more credit for being human than you often see. The book's main problem is a lack of editing. One preliminary chapter is written in the first person, which is meant to give us insight into Lilly's thoughts, but because we see so much of her thoughts and sensibilities throughout, the actual benefit of the chapter is minimal. The quotes are so much static, adding little. I think more than anything, this work could have used a better editor, but in the end, it's a diverting little beach read that will appeal to period readers and fans of romance.
* How do Cubans keep any teeth in their head with all the delicious, delicious high octane sugar they consume? I love the sugar content but man, some of it is so sweet it'll turn your face inside out.
The same goes for books. The Apothecary's Daughter didn't have the same "feel-good" kinds of quotes you run in to commonly, but it was stuffed with quotes about apothecaries and early medicine. It's not a scientific book or a history of the apothecary trade, it's a semi-cute, fluffy story about a woman in a man's trade who is wooed by various men but must stand by her family in the face of the Evil Apothecary Board who are not down with her handling the family business. This makes the quotes annoying as hell. I think Klassen is trying to add an air of legitimacy to her description of the apothecary business, but the quotes are completely superfluous and add very little. One or two might have been used to good effect, but they litter the book and disrupt its flow.
I don't mean to excoriate this book or damn it for its use of quotes, which are useless but not the ultimate literary sin, but this quote thing seems more and more prevalent and I'm getting sick and tired of the technique. This was a reasonably diverting read and I enjoyed it. The story follows Lillian Hasswell, the titular daughter, and her progress through young life. She begins life at her father's side, helping with his apothecary shop and learning the trade, before being whisked off to London by wealthy relatives to be presented in society. While she keeps her common sense grounding and intellect, she cannot avoid entanglements with various dashing young men. When she must return to her home to help her ailing father, she cannot escape said entanglements, and must balance her family life, the business and her love life all at once. The book is full of interesting characters and lovely landscapes, and the presence of a doctor suitor allows Klassen to explore the tension between apothecaries and doctors that existed during the period.
This isn't a perfect book. The story is cute and it handles relationships with a subtlety that's often lacking in this kind of "Regency" writing, giving people more credit for being human than you often see. The book's main problem is a lack of editing. One preliminary chapter is written in the first person, which is meant to give us insight into Lilly's thoughts, but because we see so much of her thoughts and sensibilities throughout, the actual benefit of the chapter is minimal. The quotes are so much static, adding little. I think more than anything, this work could have used a better editor, but in the end, it's a diverting little beach read that will appeal to period readers and fans of romance.
* How do Cubans keep any teeth in their head with all the delicious, delicious high octane sugar they consume? I love the sugar content but man, some of it is so sweet it'll turn your face inside out.
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Monday, January 31, 2011
Book Whatever!: Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins
The second book in the Hunger Games trilogy sees Katniss Everdeen’s emergence from the Games into a “real” world turned upside down. The way she made it out of the games (and I won’t say what that way is for fear of spoiling the first book) left her in direct opposition to the powerful Capitol and in great danger. She now has to go on a sort of messed up Victory Tour, facing down the districts and families that lost children in the progress towards her victory. Meanwhile, she is still on unsteady ground, completely unsure of who to trust. It’s a terrifying environment, and Katniss has to continue applying every piece of her cunning and ability to keep her head above water.
Katniss’ Games were the 74th iteration thereof, and every 25th anniversary of the Capitol’s victory over the Districts brings a Quarter Quell, where the method of choosing combatants is altered in some way. The Capitol announces that the twist this year is for previous competitors to be sent back to the Games. Though these twists are supposedly pre-determined, Katniss and her small circle of confidants immediately suspect a fix put in to bring Katniss back to the Games as a punishment, as she is the only surviving female champion from District 12. She must go back to the Games, and she will have to change her tactics this time around.
The reality TV parallels keep on coming in this installment. As we all know, reality TV shows are the most exciting in their first season, when players don’t know the ins and outs of the game and have to think on their feet. After that first season, the shows are still interesting, but players have figured out how to game the system. There’s yet another change in game play when shows introduce All Star seasons, where players not only know the game through observation but also know the game through previous play and have had a chance to observe other All Stars. This is certainly the case for Katniss in her return to the arena – she is playing against people she’s seen play before and has an idea of how the man-made arenas are likely to behave. This allows her to change her strategy and approach the game in a more efficient manner. It would be easy for this return to the Games to get repetitive, and tempting to a lesser author to sit back and essentially put the drama of the Games on replay, but Collins does a masterful job at keeping things fresh and adding more wrinkles to make it a wholly new experience.
Catching Fire also picks up the thread of commentary on genetic engineering and weapons development that we saw in The Hunger Games. The “muttations” (Collins’ word) seen in the first book are further explored here, and they are horrible for the most part – bees with instantly injurious venom that leads to eventual death and delirium, monkeys that attack with enhanced claws and massive numbers, birds trained to mimic sounds for psychological warfare, etc. – but Collins seems reluctant to denounce them as exclusively evil. We discover that the birds trained for psychological torment, jabberjays, have mated with regular mockingbirds to produce mockingjays, which replicate songs, without malice or aggression, and these birds are icons of good in the series. It’s a surprisingly nuanced take on genetic engineering, leaving room for both good and bad.
I spoke in my previous review about the addictive qualities of these books, so I’m sure if you’ve made it to Catching Fire via The Hunger Games, you don’t need me to convince you to pick this up, nor to grab Mockingjay before you finish Catching Fire so you don’t get the d-ts as you go to find a copy. I loved this one, and though Mockingjay is my favorite (more politics = happy Josie), I cannot recommend any of these books enough. If I had an actual, physical stamp of approval, I would be abusing the shit out of it right now.
Crossposted at The Outpost
Katniss’ Games were the 74th iteration thereof, and every 25th anniversary of the Capitol’s victory over the Districts brings a Quarter Quell, where the method of choosing combatants is altered in some way. The Capitol announces that the twist this year is for previous competitors to be sent back to the Games. Though these twists are supposedly pre-determined, Katniss and her small circle of confidants immediately suspect a fix put in to bring Katniss back to the Games as a punishment, as she is the only surviving female champion from District 12. She must go back to the Games, and she will have to change her tactics this time around.
The reality TV parallels keep on coming in this installment. As we all know, reality TV shows are the most exciting in their first season, when players don’t know the ins and outs of the game and have to think on their feet. After that first season, the shows are still interesting, but players have figured out how to game the system. There’s yet another change in game play when shows introduce All Star seasons, where players not only know the game through observation but also know the game through previous play and have had a chance to observe other All Stars. This is certainly the case for Katniss in her return to the arena – she is playing against people she’s seen play before and has an idea of how the man-made arenas are likely to behave. This allows her to change her strategy and approach the game in a more efficient manner. It would be easy for this return to the Games to get repetitive, and tempting to a lesser author to sit back and essentially put the drama of the Games on replay, but Collins does a masterful job at keeping things fresh and adding more wrinkles to make it a wholly new experience.
Catching Fire also picks up the thread of commentary on genetic engineering and weapons development that we saw in The Hunger Games. The “muttations” (Collins’ word) seen in the first book are further explored here, and they are horrible for the most part – bees with instantly injurious venom that leads to eventual death and delirium, monkeys that attack with enhanced claws and massive numbers, birds trained to mimic sounds for psychological warfare, etc. – but Collins seems reluctant to denounce them as exclusively evil. We discover that the birds trained for psychological torment, jabberjays, have mated with regular mockingbirds to produce mockingjays, which replicate songs, without malice or aggression, and these birds are icons of good in the series. It’s a surprisingly nuanced take on genetic engineering, leaving room for both good and bad.
I spoke in my previous review about the addictive qualities of these books, so I’m sure if you’ve made it to Catching Fire via The Hunger Games, you don’t need me to convince you to pick this up, nor to grab Mockingjay before you finish Catching Fire so you don’t get the d-ts as you go to find a copy. I loved this one, and though Mockingjay is my favorite (more politics = happy Josie), I cannot recommend any of these books enough. If I had an actual, physical stamp of approval, I would be abusing the shit out of it right now.
Crossposted at The Outpost
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Saturday, January 8, 2011
Bonus Book Saturday! Heidegger's Glasses by Thaisa Frank

I’d classify Heidegger’s Glasses as a good beach or travel read for the nerdy set. Some of it is kind of heavy handed and it’s a gloss of Heideggerian thought, but it’s also a fairly well written, interesting story that explores the way relationships changed during and after the Shoah. I’d actually recommend this for younger college-level philosophy students confronted with Heidegger’s Introduction to Metaphysics, which can be a challengng text. It’s a quick read that hammers on a couple key concepts from Heidegger’s phenomenological approach, ex. “falling out of the world” and seeing things anew so you can understand them as phenomena presenting themselves to you, separate from what additional utility or interpretation you pile on top of them. There’s also a mildly cute reference to and reversal of Plato’s Cave that I appreciated. [NB: I'd also recommend to those delving into phenomenology the excellent Introduction to Phenomenology by Robert Sokolowski, who has a gift for translating complex philosophical contexts into unpackable English. I took a course on Phenomenology at Assumption without knowing anything about it, and Sokolowski's book is one of the only reasons I got through it. The other reason was a brief guest appearance from Prof. Molly Flynn, who studied under Sokolowski, is a genius, and is worth going to Assumption College for all by herself.]
The story focuses on a community known as the Scribes, a group of people spared from the concentration camps by their proficiency in languages. Frank pings the occult undertones of the Third Reich here, explaining that a clairvoyant had told the Reich that the dead demanded answers to the letters they were forced to write before they were killed, encouraging their family and friends to come to the camps. These letters had simply been accumulating after a certain point, and the Compound of the Scribes was established within an old mine to answer them in the language they were written. All that said, not much responding went on in the Compound, because there was disagreement in the ranks about the validity of the project. It was semi-abandoned, and left to police and fend for itself.
Early on, one of the ostensible Nazi guards, Lodenstein, is summoned to Goebbels’ office to receive an order. A letter had been received from Martin Heidegger to his optometrist, Asher Englehardt, with whom he had taught at Freiburg before the Reich came to power, talking about philosophy and requesting his pair of glasses. Lodenstein is presented with a box of glasses seized from the shop and the letter, and tasked with making Heidegger feel like all was well with his friend, who had in fact been sent to Auschwitz. When Lodenstein returns to the Compound, he and Elie Schacten, his lover and Den Mother of the Scribes, are torn on how to answer this letter. It is eventually answered, but due to a series of chaotic events, it is released incorrectly and prematurely by the bumbling other guard at the Compound, and arouses the suspicions of Heidegger and his wife, who demand to see Englehardt in person.
I don’t want to spoil the rest of the story by detailing too much more of it, but I will say that the Frank provides a wonderful assortment of ways to understand the changed perception that is integral to Heidegger’s philosophy. The story is full of shifting understanding, either of surroundings or objects or people, and this only develops the somewhat heavy-handed references to Heidegger’s “falling out of the world.” (People are always falling out of places and things are falling and everything is just falling all the time.) There’s a lot to be found in this book, though I wish that Frank had a better editor and had delved a little deeper; this had the potential to be a great book. There are letters “from” the people going to their deaths interspersed throughout the book, and as far as I am concerned, I think they could have been axed entirely. Though they do show a progression that mirrors both the breakdown of the Nazi powerhouse and the changes in the Compound and its citizens, the emphasis placed throughout the book on how little responding the Scribes actually do removes a lot of their emotional heft and value to the story.
Definitely worth your time, particularly if you’re travelling or on winter break and want to keep your mind kind of sharp but not too sharp. I’ve toyed with the idea of starring these reviews instead of giving the vague “heyyyyy yeah this is kind of neat but I don’t like stories about birds” type summaries I tend to leave, but I’m actually kind of terrible at perspective. My friend Erin called me a “person relativist” this semester and though she’s not ALL the way right, she is a little bit right. I tend to give everything a fourteen day pass or something, so everything that isn’t actively horrible gets a base level of like and then it takes me a month and a half to adjust it. Basically, everything that wasn’t written by Linda Bruckheimer would get 5 stars, and then someone would be like “hey, how did you like _________?” and I’d be all “Eh.” and then they’d show me the review where I was handing out five stars left, right and center, and I’d feel like a jackass, so now I just write about my feelings. It’s lame but more honest.
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Friday, January 7, 2011
Book Friday! American On Purpose, by Craig Ferguson (CBR-III: 1)
I first came across Craig Ferguson in a monologue from his The Late Late Show where he was doing something I hold near and dear to my heart: crapping on airlines.
It was funny when I first saw it, and even funnier when Continental Airlines kidnapped my friend Ashley for three days because they’d double booked fifteen flights out of Houston, thus wreaking havoc on basically every airport that carries Continental flights. I should actually point out that it was funny once I found out that Ash had made it out of the Continental netherworld alive and in Houston, though I was still sad that she did not make it to my place at all.
A little later on, I saw a bit from Ferguson that was equal parts funny and important. It was a monologue that he gave before the 2008 election, and he wrapped it up by saying “if you don’t vote, you’re a moron…it is your DUTY to vote.” It’s worth a watch, because this stuff is essential, and I love his encouragement to get out and research candidates and get your ass out to the voting booth.
Craig Ferguson is an American who worked hard to get that way, and it shows in the way he discusses politics and the way he talks about America. His autobiography, however, shows that he has not always been so focused and clear. I expected more humor from American On Purpose, because he IS such a funny guy, but got very different story.
Ferguson spent much of his formative life completely obliterated on a variety of drugs and alcohol. His account of this harrowing time is certainly infused with humor, but it’s also a fascinating look into the havoc that alcoholism can wreak on your life and how helpless you can be before it. Before finally going to rehab, Ferguson’s fledgling career, friendships and life had been torn to the ground by his disease. He is remarkably clear minded about it now, but it’s obvious that he understands how incredibly broken he was before he got help.
This book is also a love letter to the two homes of Ferguson’s life: Scotland and America. I think his adoration for both places is particularly special for the experiences he describes; he was traveling throughout Europe during one of the most creative and exciting periods in recent history, but he still came back to Scotland and was inspired by the dream of going to America. It goes to show that an emotional connection to a certain place is about more than the universally understood attractions. Ferguson’s story is an inspiring one for a variety of reasons and is well worth your time. It’s great to see such a remarkable story of redemption.
Crossposted at The CBR-III Outpost
It was funny when I first saw it, and even funnier when Continental Airlines kidnapped my friend Ashley for three days because they’d double booked fifteen flights out of Houston, thus wreaking havoc on basically every airport that carries Continental flights. I should actually point out that it was funny once I found out that Ash had made it out of the Continental netherworld alive and in Houston, though I was still sad that she did not make it to my place at all.
A little later on, I saw a bit from Ferguson that was equal parts funny and important. It was a monologue that he gave before the 2008 election, and he wrapped it up by saying “if you don’t vote, you’re a moron…it is your DUTY to vote.” It’s worth a watch, because this stuff is essential, and I love his encouragement to get out and research candidates and get your ass out to the voting booth.
Craig Ferguson is an American who worked hard to get that way, and it shows in the way he discusses politics and the way he talks about America. His autobiography, however, shows that he has not always been so focused and clear. I expected more humor from American On Purpose, because he IS such a funny guy, but got very different story.
Ferguson spent much of his formative life completely obliterated on a variety of drugs and alcohol. His account of this harrowing time is certainly infused with humor, but it’s also a fascinating look into the havoc that alcoholism can wreak on your life and how helpless you can be before it. Before finally going to rehab, Ferguson’s fledgling career, friendships and life had been torn to the ground by his disease. He is remarkably clear minded about it now, but it’s obvious that he understands how incredibly broken he was before he got help.
This book is also a love letter to the two homes of Ferguson’s life: Scotland and America. I think his adoration for both places is particularly special for the experiences he describes; he was traveling throughout Europe during one of the most creative and exciting periods in recent history, but he still came back to Scotland and was inspired by the dream of going to America. It goes to show that an emotional connection to a certain place is about more than the universally understood attractions. Ferguson’s story is an inspiring one for a variety of reasons and is well worth your time. It’s great to see such a remarkable story of redemption.

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Sunday, January 2, 2011
Cannonballing Up: CBR-III
Some of you may remember a while back when I attempted a Cannonball Read, wherein one reads and reviews 100 books in a year. I came up a little short, primarily because I could not get my act together to review the books I read. For this round, though, the Powers That Be have set the goal at 52 books a year. That seems much more manageable, so I'll be giving that a whirl. I'll be blogging those reviews here, at a Wordpress blog, and occasionally at the CBR-III community blog. I'd recommend checking in to the community blog when you have time, because numerous Cannonballers will be reviewing their faces off over there and you'll get a huge variety of books and review styles.
I'd also love any recommendations that you can offer. I'm always looking for new reading material, and I'm open to pretty much anything. You can leave recommendations in the comments or email me at josie.brown at gmail dot com, and they will be greatly appreciated!
I'd also love any recommendations that you can offer. I'm always looking for new reading material, and I'm open to pretty much anything. You can leave recommendations in the comments or email me at josie.brown at gmail dot com, and they will be greatly appreciated!
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Saturday, February 27, 2010
Cannonball Read #52: A Walk In The Woods, by Bill Bryson
WARNING: Bill Bryson will make you snort.
This is how his books came to be passed around our family. You would be sitting around, minding your own business while someone paged through one of his excellent travelogues, and all of a sudden you'd hear this gurgly snort. You'd look up, then go back to whatever you were doing, and then the snort would come again. You'd look at the reader and they'd look back at you, and they'd look like they were going to say something but think better of it, and then when you went back to whatever you were doing, you'd get halfway there and they'd blurt out "okay okay I gotta read you this" and they'd read you the passage and you'd both crack up. And then you called dibs on the book.
Bryson is a travel writer, but that descriptor falls a bit short. He is a keen observer of human greatness as well as human weirdness, and writes beautifully on both. This outing follows his decision to hike the Appalachian Trail, and if you can get through this book and not want to head out to the nearest hiking store to empty your bank account, well...you're a stronger person than I. Not only is the book stuffed with information about camping, hiking, weather, nature and of course, the Trail itself, but it's illuminated with portraits of the various wizards and weirdos inhabiting the AT. It's a fascinating look at the experience, particularly as viewed through Bryson's experience and that of Katz, his erstwhile hiking partner.
I love Katz. I love Katz because everyone has a Katz. He's the friend that you have that you spend half of your friendship wanting to stab directly in the face, but the other half, you can't even remember where the knives are because you're so busy laughing right from your gut. These are the friends that remind you what humanity is all about. Katz is...epically unsuited for the enterprise of hiking the Appalachian Trail. Bryson was perhaps unprepared for the scale of the AT, but Katz was unprepared for any hiking trip more strenuous than a lap of a small, 80s era mall. There are blowups and tantrums, but I don't think that Bryson's trek would have been the same without Katz; you can see true friendship there, strange and erratic though it may be.
This is a wonderful read, particularly for anyone interested in hiking or the AT itself, but certainly not limited to that audience. I heartily recommend any of Bryson's books, and his travelogues are particularly great beach reading.
397 pages
This is how his books came to be passed around our family. You would be sitting around, minding your own business while someone paged through one of his excellent travelogues, and all of a sudden you'd hear this gurgly snort. You'd look up, then go back to whatever you were doing, and then the snort would come again. You'd look at the reader and they'd look back at you, and they'd look like they were going to say something but think better of it, and then when you went back to whatever you were doing, you'd get halfway there and they'd blurt out "okay okay I gotta read you this" and they'd read you the passage and you'd both crack up. And then you called dibs on the book.
Bryson is a travel writer, but that descriptor falls a bit short. He is a keen observer of human greatness as well as human weirdness, and writes beautifully on both. This outing follows his decision to hike the Appalachian Trail, and if you can get through this book and not want to head out to the nearest hiking store to empty your bank account, well...you're a stronger person than I. Not only is the book stuffed with information about camping, hiking, weather, nature and of course, the Trail itself, but it's illuminated with portraits of the various wizards and weirdos inhabiting the AT. It's a fascinating look at the experience, particularly as viewed through Bryson's experience and that of Katz, his erstwhile hiking partner.
I love Katz. I love Katz because everyone has a Katz. He's the friend that you have that you spend half of your friendship wanting to stab directly in the face, but the other half, you can't even remember where the knives are because you're so busy laughing right from your gut. These are the friends that remind you what humanity is all about. Katz is...epically unsuited for the enterprise of hiking the Appalachian Trail. Bryson was perhaps unprepared for the scale of the AT, but Katz was unprepared for any hiking trip more strenuous than a lap of a small, 80s era mall. There are blowups and tantrums, but I don't think that Bryson's trek would have been the same without Katz; you can see true friendship there, strange and erratic though it may be.
This is a wonderful read, particularly for anyone interested in hiking or the AT itself, but certainly not limited to that audience. I heartily recommend any of Bryson's books, and his travelogues are particularly great beach reading.
397 pages

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Friday, February 26, 2010
Cannonball Read #51: Democracy in America (Vol. 1) by Alexis de Toqueville
I often wonder if Alexis de Tocqueville ever gets tired of being right ALL THE TIME. I watch politics today and see his predictions coming to life over and over again. What worries me is that these animations are the predictions he was most concerned about. I hate when people say that politics aren't "their thing," because our lives are political, and no one can escape that reality, particularly here in America. You can not give a shit about the details of the latest bill on the House floor all you want, but you do need to pay attention to the larger concerns of our polity. Sorry, but you do. Politics control all of our lives, even if we are not conscious of their power; it's like the proverb about water being the last thing a fish discovers because he is surrounded by it his entire life.
There are a thousand wonderful statements strung together in Democracy, but the predominant one is so simple it's right out of a comic book: with great power comes great responsibility. Tocqueville is clearly in awe of the American political system, but he sees the dangers interlocked with its benefits. Our fierce insistence on equality allows the most freedom of any system - even amongst other democracies - but it also removes a locus of power that is provided in other systems by an aristocracy. Not inherently bad, but it requires that we pay more attention to the preservation of our freedoms and our democracy, and avoid the tyranny of the majority. Tocqueville reminds us of these problems and seems to hope that we can avoid the pitfalls that litter our political landscape. He concerns himself with this not because he hopes for our failure but because he sees the potential we have to capitalize on. He felt so strongly about this that he called for an entirely "new political science." That's a pretty serious statement.
I will admit that I am biased when it comes to this work, because it's exactly what I hope to do some day - to write books that make politics interesting and accessible to everyone. I'm not so bold as to say my writing is of Tocqueville's caliber, but I can certainly aspire to his great example. This is unquestionably one of the best political works of America's history, and probably one of the best in the world's history. To see anyone's politics so clearly is a remarkable feat, and to analyze them to this depth is sheer brilliance. Required reading for everyone.
480 pages
There are a thousand wonderful statements strung together in Democracy, but the predominant one is so simple it's right out of a comic book: with great power comes great responsibility. Tocqueville is clearly in awe of the American political system, but he sees the dangers interlocked with its benefits. Our fierce insistence on equality allows the most freedom of any system - even amongst other democracies - but it also removes a locus of power that is provided in other systems by an aristocracy. Not inherently bad, but it requires that we pay more attention to the preservation of our freedoms and our democracy, and avoid the tyranny of the majority. Tocqueville reminds us of these problems and seems to hope that we can avoid the pitfalls that litter our political landscape. He concerns himself with this not because he hopes for our failure but because he sees the potential we have to capitalize on. He felt so strongly about this that he called for an entirely "new political science." That's a pretty serious statement.
I will admit that I am biased when it comes to this work, because it's exactly what I hope to do some day - to write books that make politics interesting and accessible to everyone. I'm not so bold as to say my writing is of Tocqueville's caliber, but I can certainly aspire to his great example. This is unquestionably one of the best political works of America's history, and probably one of the best in the world's history. To see anyone's politics so clearly is a remarkable feat, and to analyze them to this depth is sheer brilliance. Required reading for everyone.
480 pages

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Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Cannonball Read #50: The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir
NB: I originally planned to review only new books for this project and to avoid re-reading books. However, I have re-read roughly 20 books during the same period and after reviewing other Cannonballers' catalogues, I think I may have missed the point of the Read itself which of course is reading, period, not limiting oneself to new literary adventures. Considering not only the conglomerate nature of the project at its outset but the community that sprang up around it, I've decided to review the re-reads I have enjoyed in the past year as well, playing some catch up over the winter break. Now of course, I did not manage to make the 100-books-in-a-year goal, but I think in a year that involved a wedding, work and a full-time school schedule, pounding out seventy-ish books is pretty damn good. The second round of the Cannonball Read has started with a reduced book requirement - a book a week - and I hope to pick that up, turning my own participation into a kind of mutant extended Cannonball Read of 152 books in two years.
On a happier note, I was thrilled to have my review of The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay be named the number one Cannonball Read review of 2009. That's pretty cool.
************************************************
I love studies on environmental factors for development. Taking them all at face value is dangerous because there are plenty of logically-blindfolded leaps being made, but I think it's always worth thinking about what makes a person how they are. However, I do not typically think about gender as a whole as something one becomes, and Simone de Beauvoir put forward this idea in The Second Sex, and it's really an interesting concept. For Beauvoir, sex and gender are separate - sex the biological fact of a person and gender the panoply of social and behavioral mores that we gather as we grow.
We're at an extremely exciting time in history, but it's a scary time, too. Society has reached a point where people are generally open to equality of opportunity between the sexes. Our politics have had to make room for non-traditional families - be they divorced couples, gay parents, common law couples, etc. - and this requires that we deal with them legally. As technology and social development lets us do more, it becomes increasingly important to stop and take time to consider what makes us who and what we are. It's fairly easy to think about the dynamics that we choose consciously - our careers or hobbies or clothes - but we rarely consider those defining characteristics that provide lifelong context for us. What makes us American and what does that mean beyond a Social Security card? What makes us men and women? What does being black mean, or being a WASP? When we forego these considerations, we allow too much to be shoved under their banners and aren't able to clearly articulate our own being. It sounds like a really cerebral, theoretical thing to worry about, but when you consider how many of our problems stem from a lack of clarity and conviction in our principles, it becomes a little more real.
It's tough to give Beauvoir a free pass as The Woman With The Answers, but her analysis gives us a good look at an unusual approach to sex and gender. I think the most important aspect of her thought is the work she does to break the female identity away from being simply not-male. The attempt to define each sex and gender separately and on their own merit is a worthy experiment and may be the key to breaking the male/female binary and the rampant stereotypes that have sprung out of it. It's at least a fascinating look at what shapes us from a brilliant thinker. It's easy to see why this book had the revolutionary effect it did on the feminist movement.
705 pages
On a happier note, I was thrilled to have my review of The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay be named the number one Cannonball Read review of 2009. That's pretty cool.
************************************************
I love studies on environmental factors for development. Taking them all at face value is dangerous because there are plenty of logically-blindfolded leaps being made, but I think it's always worth thinking about what makes a person how they are. However, I do not typically think about gender as a whole as something one becomes, and Simone de Beauvoir put forward this idea in The Second Sex, and it's really an interesting concept. For Beauvoir, sex and gender are separate - sex the biological fact of a person and gender the panoply of social and behavioral mores that we gather as we grow.
We're at an extremely exciting time in history, but it's a scary time, too. Society has reached a point where people are generally open to equality of opportunity between the sexes. Our politics have had to make room for non-traditional families - be they divorced couples, gay parents, common law couples, etc. - and this requires that we deal with them legally. As technology and social development lets us do more, it becomes increasingly important to stop and take time to consider what makes us who and what we are. It's fairly easy to think about the dynamics that we choose consciously - our careers or hobbies or clothes - but we rarely consider those defining characteristics that provide lifelong context for us. What makes us American and what does that mean beyond a Social Security card? What makes us men and women? What does being black mean, or being a WASP? When we forego these considerations, we allow too much to be shoved under their banners and aren't able to clearly articulate our own being. It sounds like a really cerebral, theoretical thing to worry about, but when you consider how many of our problems stem from a lack of clarity and conviction in our principles, it becomes a little more real.
It's tough to give Beauvoir a free pass as The Woman With The Answers, but her analysis gives us a good look at an unusual approach to sex and gender. I think the most important aspect of her thought is the work she does to break the female identity away from being simply not-male. The attempt to define each sex and gender separately and on their own merit is a worthy experiment and may be the key to breaking the male/female binary and the rampant stereotypes that have sprung out of it. It's at least a fascinating look at what shapes us from a brilliant thinker. It's easy to see why this book had the revolutionary effect it did on the feminist movement.
705 pages

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Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Cannonball Read #49: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer and Ann Barrows
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society is a beach or commute book. You'll see the big surprise coming well ahead of time, and it's not what I would call a particularly original work, but for all of that, it is a sweet and engaging book.
The novel is really a collection of letters and telegrams between the various characters therein. The main character, Juliet, is a war writer post-war, and is unsure of her next projects. She is tired of the war and tired of her routine, but when she stumbles into the stories of the people on the island of Guernsey, she finds new vigor and begins to chart a new path for herself. The letters between the characters do a wonderful job of character development and highlighting the progress of new friendships. During the Nazi occupation of Guernsey, the island's inhabitants had to find ways to forge on and live a life as normal as possible. One of the ways they did this was through a literary club they put together after being caught breaking curfew. The club was a simple patch on a sticky situation at first, but after a while, the members began to truly know and enjoy each other.
I feel like this book is a collection of characters clumped together. Since it's all letters and telegrams, there's no backdrop for the story. You get little dribs and drabs of the environment, but it's never fleshed out enough to really give the story any kind of emotional context. I think a change in format would go a long way in improving it.
I'll be honest with you...it's taken me the better part of two weeks to write this review because I just don't have that much to say about it. It's a perfectly fine, cutesy little read, but it's the whitest of white bread. Borrow a copy from someone and take it to the beach.
290 pages
The novel is really a collection of letters and telegrams between the various characters therein. The main character, Juliet, is a war writer post-war, and is unsure of her next projects. She is tired of the war and tired of her routine, but when she stumbles into the stories of the people on the island of Guernsey, she finds new vigor and begins to chart a new path for herself. The letters between the characters do a wonderful job of character development and highlighting the progress of new friendships. During the Nazi occupation of Guernsey, the island's inhabitants had to find ways to forge on and live a life as normal as possible. One of the ways they did this was through a literary club they put together after being caught breaking curfew. The club was a simple patch on a sticky situation at first, but after a while, the members began to truly know and enjoy each other.
I feel like this book is a collection of characters clumped together. Since it's all letters and telegrams, there's no backdrop for the story. You get little dribs and drabs of the environment, but it's never fleshed out enough to really give the story any kind of emotional context. I think a change in format would go a long way in improving it.
I'll be honest with you...it's taken me the better part of two weeks to write this review because I just don't have that much to say about it. It's a perfectly fine, cutesy little read, but it's the whitest of white bread. Borrow a copy from someone and take it to the beach.
290 pages

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Thursday, November 12, 2009
Cannonball Read #48: Sweet and Low, by Rich Cohen
I never really know how to explain the part of my personality that makes me like books like this, but I usually wind up saying something like "I just really like...things." It's a little bit like that scene in Cocktail where Tom Cruise is all "some guy invented drink umbrellas and made a ZILLION DOLLARS," but more like "some guy thought of this and then made it happen. Why would you think of such a thing?" I must admit that Sweet and Low is not my favorite of the faux sweeteners, but the genesis of the product is fascinating if only for the way it fit in with sweeping changes in the American relationship with food.
Sweet and Low is an account of - surprise! - the family that created Sweet and Low and the individual packets that contain it. It's also about the American enthusiasm for dieting, individualism, mafia activity in New York, business, New York City, family dynamics, Jews and myriad other topics, all of which weave through the principle story of Sweet and Low and those little pink packets.
I think this book could have been either longer or shorter. Cohen tries to take on a lot here, connecting Sweet and Low to a massive number of topics, all of which are worthy of deeper analysis and many of which do in fact have entire research industries surrounding them. Part of making a book engaging is keeping your focus narrow enough that you can cover it comprehensively, and I don't think that needs to dictate your length, either. You could count either Michael Burleigh's The Third Reich which comes in at a brisk 992 pages in paperback or Immanuel Kant's Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals at an easily lose-able 79 pages as comprehensive works with a narrow focus. While all of the threads do come back to the main story, I was left wanting more detail on many of them.
Whenever the author of a book is directly related to the book's subject, the whole project enters a certain hazard zone. I think it's directly linked to the motive for writing the book, and there are only a few motives that don't interfere with the tone of the finished work. Cohen's book half succeeds at unbiased presentation because about half of his motivation is simple exploration. I suspect that the writing of this book began in a certain kind of...affrontedness, shall we say, stemming from his branch of the family being summarily excised from the Sweet and Low fortune. It is clear that his family history is extremely important to him, and that lineage has been important to his family generally for a very long time; the whole book is tied up in knots of family connections.
I feel that Cohen could ultimately have edited more closely for over-personal connections and fleshed out some of the historical context for the real ascendancy of the company. It's a good, quick read, but it did leave me wanting more information. I think that's a plus in the end, but it does relegate the work to a piece of a larger body as a historical document. As an interesting story about a quirky family written in brisk prose full of wit and verve however, Sweet and Low stands on its own two feet and earns your time easily.
288 pages
Sweet and Low is an account of - surprise! - the family that created Sweet and Low and the individual packets that contain it. It's also about the American enthusiasm for dieting, individualism, mafia activity in New York, business, New York City, family dynamics, Jews and myriad other topics, all of which weave through the principle story of Sweet and Low and those little pink packets.
I think this book could have been either longer or shorter. Cohen tries to take on a lot here, connecting Sweet and Low to a massive number of topics, all of which are worthy of deeper analysis and many of which do in fact have entire research industries surrounding them. Part of making a book engaging is keeping your focus narrow enough that you can cover it comprehensively, and I don't think that needs to dictate your length, either. You could count either Michael Burleigh's The Third Reich which comes in at a brisk 992 pages in paperback or Immanuel Kant's Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals at an easily lose-able 79 pages as comprehensive works with a narrow focus. While all of the threads do come back to the main story, I was left wanting more detail on many of them.
Whenever the author of a book is directly related to the book's subject, the whole project enters a certain hazard zone. I think it's directly linked to the motive for writing the book, and there are only a few motives that don't interfere with the tone of the finished work. Cohen's book half succeeds at unbiased presentation because about half of his motivation is simple exploration. I suspect that the writing of this book began in a certain kind of...affrontedness, shall we say, stemming from his branch of the family being summarily excised from the Sweet and Low fortune. It is clear that his family history is extremely important to him, and that lineage has been important to his family generally for a very long time; the whole book is tied up in knots of family connections.
I feel that Cohen could ultimately have edited more closely for over-personal connections and fleshed out some of the historical context for the real ascendancy of the company. It's a good, quick read, but it did leave me wanting more information. I think that's a plus in the end, but it does relegate the work to a piece of a larger body as a historical document. As an interesting story about a quirky family written in brisk prose full of wit and verve however, Sweet and Low stands on its own two feet and earns your time easily.
288 pages

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Thursday, November 5, 2009
Cannonball Read #47: The Flanders Panel by Arturo Perez-Reverte
I figured out what irritates me about Arturo Perez-Reverte. First, he needs to shake up his descriptions, particularly of women. When I read The Club Dumas there were times when I actually said out loud, like a crazy person, things like "holy CRAP yes, green eyes, tan skin, long legs, complete Lolita fantasy, I get it, GOD." There's certainly value in providing physical and emotional profiles of your characters, but rewording it occasionally is helpful. Ditto with the comparisons of people to animals...we get it. Wolflike. 10-4.
That's all mildly irritating, but the big problem I have with his writing is that he makes it seem like he's going to pull of these really fascinating connections between ancient artifacts and modern day events, and then in the end he makes it riiiiiiiiight up to what should be the big reveal, and then it turns out that it was just modern day people dicking around and being evil jerks. It's still interesting that way, but Perez-Reverte is a good enough writer that you get really excited about what you think he's going to pull off, only to be let down in the end. I want more out of his books because I think he can DO more in his books.
In the case of The Flanders Panel, the story surrounds a Flemish painting being restored by the Pure-Hearted Protagonist of the novel. In the process of the restoration, she discovers a hidden message in the painting, and embarks on a search for answers. The painting features a game of chess, and one of the most interesting aspects of the book is the eventual necessity of playing out the game portrayed. I don't know much about chess - not good chess, anyway - so seeing how it can all be played and reasoned out was fascinating. I must say that I was not wild about the way Perez-Reverte inserted pictures into the book, but I'm also not sure how else it could have been made accessible (an appendix?).
I'm going to put this one in the beach book category. It's not a bad book even though it suffers from the above mentioned crisis of direction, and it's a good lightish read while still requiring some brainpower to keep track of everything. Worth your time but not getting arrested for speeding on the way to the bookstore.
294 pages
That's all mildly irritating, but the big problem I have with his writing is that he makes it seem like he's going to pull of these really fascinating connections between ancient artifacts and modern day events, and then in the end he makes it riiiiiiiiight up to what should be the big reveal, and then it turns out that it was just modern day people dicking around and being evil jerks. It's still interesting that way, but Perez-Reverte is a good enough writer that you get really excited about what you think he's going to pull off, only to be let down in the end. I want more out of his books because I think he can DO more in his books.
In the case of The Flanders Panel, the story surrounds a Flemish painting being restored by the Pure-Hearted Protagonist of the novel. In the process of the restoration, she discovers a hidden message in the painting, and embarks on a search for answers. The painting features a game of chess, and one of the most interesting aspects of the book is the eventual necessity of playing out the game portrayed. I don't know much about chess - not good chess, anyway - so seeing how it can all be played and reasoned out was fascinating. I must say that I was not wild about the way Perez-Reverte inserted pictures into the book, but I'm also not sure how else it could have been made accessible (an appendix?).
I'm going to put this one in the beach book category. It's not a bad book even though it suffers from the above mentioned crisis of direction, and it's a good lightish read while still requiring some brainpower to keep track of everything. Worth your time but not getting arrested for speeding on the way to the bookstore.
294 pages

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